


Moonlight

by ackermom



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermom/pseuds/ackermom
Summary: A moment of silence, and Bertholdt’s pace matches his. A pair of unsteady soldiers, boots bigger than they know what to do with.
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 45
Kudos: 36





	1. rooftops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> january 2017  
> things you said when you were drunk  
> cw: alcohol use

Bertholdt is accosted in the showers, and he sputters for a towel as Reiner dangles a flask in front of his face.

“We’re celebrating tonight,” Reiner says, grinning. Across the washroom, someone hollers; cadets sprint past the showers, out the main door, and onto the lawn, cheering.

“Celebrating what?” Bertholdt exclaims. “Can you get out?”

“Our first exam!” Reiner shouts. “We passed! Come on, everyone’s celebrating!”

“Fine, I’ll be right out, but can you just- get out, Reiner!”

The party lasts a record fifteen minutes before an officer bursts in with a fresh stack of misconduct slips, and the cadets scatter across the compound, darting into barracks, tucking contraband flasks into their jackets.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere,” Reiner mutters as soon as they’ve stumbled out the back door. He grabs Bertholdt’s hand. “I want to watch the sunset.”

“The roofs of the infirmary,” Bertholdt replies, answering the unspoken question, “but you can never be alone up there, there’s also someone snogging or-”

“Oh good, we can get the party started again.”

The sun sets over the distant hills, and they watch from the rooftop, leaning back against the brick chimney that perches over top of them. They pass the flask between them; Bertholdt winces and coughs, and Reiner laughs at him. The sky shifts from pink to orange to purple, until just one last stroke of sunlight pierces out over the hills, shining across the compound. Bertholdt’s eyes feel heavy. He yawns, and just when he’s starting to fall asleep, he hears Reiner hum.

“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” Reiner says.

Bertholdt blinks. So many things are strange, nowadays, and even more so tonight. He says nothing at first, just blinks his tired eyes into the sunset. But after a moment or so, his vision dances with yellow spots and he turns his head to shield his gaze from the sun. He turns to Reiner, blinking, and just happens to catch him clasping a hand over his left arm.

“Doesn’t it feel strange?” Reiner echoes. The hand sits loosely on his bicep, slipping slowly down his sleeve. He tightens his grip and squeezes his arm; then he lets go, dropping his head back against the chimney and sighing. “I feel bare.”

“Are you mad?” Bertholdt exclaims, reaching across to tear the flask away from him. “I told you, we’re not alone up here.”

“No one’s listening,” Reiner says, glancing back up towards him. A few other cadets have gathered on the far side of the building, perched back in the shadows to avoid detection, but they’re too far away to hear anything. Still, Bertholdt frowns.

“It doesn’t matter if anyone’s listening,” he says. “You have to be vigilant.”

He pauses. “I thought-”

He stops.

Reiner furrows his brow at him. “What?” he says. He’s asking, but his voice laughs with that tipsy lilt.

 _I thought you had forgotten_.

“Nothing,” Bertholdt sighs, turning away. “Just remember, these people-”

“Oh, hush,” Reiner exclaims, pulling himself up right. “Now you’re the one that needs to be careful.”

He leans over to Bertholdt. The sunset cascades over them; Bertholdt blinks when Reiner leans in close and bops him on the nose.

“We’re not alone up here,” he whispers. He grins, the final stroke of sunset dashing across his smile. Then he jumps up, stuffing the flask in his jacket, and darts off.


	2. second chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> july 2017

The last thing he remembers is two arms wrapped around his chest. He couldn’t see, hear, think, but he could feel; and he felt those hands curl around his body and lift him up from the ground as if he were being carried to heaven. He knew, instantly, even in his blank mind, whose hands had rescued him.

He woke up on a cold ship, the metal waves rocking him back and forth as he rose slowly from a deep, agonizing slumber. It took one look around the room to know that something was not right; the ship was full of soldiers, but it was empty for all Reiner cared. Pieck sat by his bed and shushed him back to sleep. In the corner, Zeke said nothing. They spent months wandering around him in silence like that. They all stared; they watched for twitches in his hands and fragments in his eyes. He swallowed it all and sank deeper into denial.

Reiner feels those hands around his chest again now, just before he wakes in a cold sweat. He jerks upright, gasping for air, and his fingers clench at the blankets, his breaths coming quick and shallow. He scans the room, paranoid, but he sees nothing except for the black that surrounds him. His world is darker than his nightmares. He breathes heavily for another moment and wipes the sweat from his brow until he realizes that this night is quiet: too quiet for a night in Marley, where orders are given and taken at all hours of the day.

He looks around. His surroundings slowly come to light, and he blinks as he realizes that although this is not his room in Marley, he knows this place. He remembers it well.

The wind blows viciously against the walls of the small tent, and Reiner clambers out from beneath his blanket, his heart racing. He stumbles over his feet and glances down at himself: young hands, young legs, young heart. This is here. This is now. Maybe he’s dreaming, but the weight in his stomach feels so real. He’s not going to question it.

The sunrise hits him like an explosion when he bursts out of the tent. He stumbles back, throwing a hand over his eyes. Their tents are perched just on top of the wall, looking down on the ruins of Shiganshina: an ugly reminder that Reiner remembers contemplating, all those years ago. He doesn’t think about it now, instead glancing around as he squints through the sunrise until he finds what he’s looking for.

Smoke rises lazily from the small campfire that’s set up between the two tents. Reiner steps towards it, but he stops, his heart clenching, when he comes around to the other side and sees Bertholdt poking at the fire.

Bertholdt looks up at him. He looks so tired, so worn out, and Reiner’s heart drops. He has always remembered this morning as a golden dawn, one last sweet cup of coffee before their parting, and in his mind, Bertholdt was always starry-eyed and smiling. Now he knows that he was lying to himself. The bags under Bertholdt’s eyes weigh heavy, purple, and he doesn’t smile when he sees Reiner. He just yawns.

“Coffee?” he asks without preface.

Reiner has wished through hard years and long nights that he could relive this moment, that he could do it right, that he could say what he really means; if he had known what was going to happen, he would have done everything differently. But now he knows, now he is here, and he still does not know what he can possibly say that would make these things right.

“Sure,” he mutters.

Bertholdt pours him a cup and holds it out. When Reiner takes it, their fingers brush together and he wishes to gods upon gods that he could find the words.

“Are you alright?” Bertholdt asks, sitting back from the campfire.

Reiner stares at this ghost. “What?”

“I asked if you’re alright,” Bertholdt says. He sips at his coffee. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Reiner murmurs. His head burns.

“We don’t have time for distractions,” someone else says.

Reiner’s gaze jerks up. Zeke sits across the campfire, deeply engrossed in his half-empty mug of black coffee. He’s here, of course he’s here, but Reiner had forgotten; this memory is so much different in his mind.

“Come sit down,” Bertholdt says, patting the spot on the ground next to him. “We’re strategizing.”

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he sits and listens. He lives this life again, repeating the movements, the motions, echoing a memory as the sun rises around them and the coffee slowly drains from their mugs. This must be a dream, because he moves without thinking about it and time passes in seconds and then hours. They sit around the campfire and then their tents are packed, their blades sharpened, and suddenly it’s just Reiner and Bertholdt alone on the wall, strapping on their gear.

Reiner hesitates. He does not know if he can change the future, or if doing things differently would even make a difference. But Bertholdt is here, he’s real, he’s breathing, and if Reiner can just tell him, just let him know, just say everything that he should have said when he had the chance-

“Reiner?” Bertholdt asks.

He’s there, standing before Reiner, that light of determination in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He glances down at the tangled pile of 3DMG straps in Reiner’s hands. “We need to get ready.”

He doesn’t have the words. He’ll never be able to tell Bertholdt what he means, and even if he ever could, he doesn’t think he could fit it all into one breath. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to stop saying it. So he doesn’t speak. Instead, he drops the gear straps and grabs Bertholdt by the shoulders and kisses him like he has always wished he did.

He pull himself close to Bertholdt and pushes their lips together, his hands firm around Bertholdt’s shoulder; he feels Bertholdt hum in surprise beneath his lips and he stiffens for a moment: but then his shoulders drop again and Reiner feels Bertholdt’s hands trailing over his arms and up his back until they are so entwined that Reiner can feel their heartbeats racing together.

He breaks away when a dove calls overhead.

Bertholdt stands there, breathless, his face flushed with blood, and he stares at Reiner with wide eyes.

Reiner swallows a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know,” he says, “that you could never disappoint me.”

He wakes up with the taste of Bertholdt’s lips on his tongue.


	3. wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> september 2017  
> cw: blood, bruises

Reiner takes it out on the training dummy. He pummels it to a pulp: first with a quarterstaff, then with his fists. His knuckles bleed beneath the skin, drawing purple halos beneath his fingers; then his skin scrapes and tears, and he comes away from the dummy with streaks of blood beneath his hands.

The red catches him off guard. He freezes mid-action, his hands reared back to his chest. They bleed through the violet bruises painted on his fingers. He stops. The momentum of his fumbled strike throws him backwards, and his heels catch at the gym floor to hold himself up. He stares at the blood and a thick silence wells up in his throat. He has dreamt about blood so many times since he returned to Marley. He has remembered the open, gaping wounds of his body at the last battle, and he has remembered the murmuring voice that spoke to him.

Something within him has died.

For months and months he held out hope. He dreamed of seeing Bertholdt’s face again: just to know that he is alive. He forced himself to believe that the Survey Corps would take captives, that that’s where they had Annie, too. Confined, imprisoned, but alive.

The dream broke when he remembered the titans, when the council openly mourned the loss of their greatest asset. How stupid could he have been to think that they would have let Bertholdt live? How could he have been blind enough to believe that Bertholdt could still be alive?

He lets his fists fall. He looks up at the training dummy. Its form is badly disfigured. It is painted with blood and punched with craters. It hangs limply from its metal post, its cotton head falling forward over its chest, and suddenly Reiner feels sick.


	4. hold tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> september 2017  
> if reiner died and bertholdt lived

The sinking feeling in his stomach develops on a cold, gray morning as the silver sea disappears on the horizon, trailing behind the metal ship and vanishing from view. He lies awake, his heart slow and quiet. The ship creaks ominously as it sails through the dark ocean. The world seems still, even as his cold bunk rocks back and forth with the waves, and Bertholdt wishes that this nightmare was just a dream.

The pit stays in his stomach for weeks and months after the ship docks in Marley again. He carries that weight around in a daze, his mouth dry, his lips sealed, his vision a blur as the world moves on without him.

He knows the truth. He knows it, deep down; that truth sits like a stone in his stomach, a constant, nauseating reminder of the cold, lonely world that he now finds himself in. He knows that Reiner is gone. He knows that he is alone. He knows that this is why the sky is gray and the sun is cold.

The feeling never goes away. Not after he says the words aloud for the first time, not after he says goodbye in his dreams. He learns to live with it, because he has no other choice.

He lives with the weight of death inside his chest. After some time, after guns and fire and lightning, that weight is the only thing familiar to him. It is the only thing he has left. He finds himself holding a hand against his stomach, relieved for the first time to find that dread and grief still lingering inside his body.

It is his only reminder, his only friend, and so Bertholdt bears that weight the best he can, the only way he knows how: by loving it, by holding it, by thanking it for being there until its bitter end.


	5. going home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2017  
> bert survives shiganshina

Their retreat is hasty. Reiner's hands are shaking, and there is blood caked beneath his fingernails: not his blood. He has the wooden box tucked beneath one arm, and his other hand is grasping onto Bertholdt's jacket, pressed over his heart. He is alive. Still alive.

Their caravan clambers over walls and across the land, dodging titans beneath the sunset until they are far away enough, far away at all, and their camp settles down for the night. Zeke lights a fire, rubbing at the wound on his throat that still bleeds steam. He is quiet when Reiner hands him the small box with his shaking hands. They have not looked inside, but they know what is in there. Reiner understands the fate of the people left behind, and he quietly adds to his body count.

Reiner is there when Bertholdt finally wakes up. He is steaming beneath the starlight, and when he sits up, Reiner can see the moon in his wide eyes.

“What happened?” Bertholdt asks. 

_We made it_ , Reiner thinks of saying, but he wonders if that is really true. Zeke is hunched over the fire, staring into the flames, while Pieck stands restlessly on the edge of camp, stretching out the knots in her legs.

“We’re going home,” he says instead, because that is the best he could have hoped for. He has Bertholdt’s hands in his grasp. Bertholdt’s skin is warm, but his blood is still beneath Reiner's fingernails.

"Home,” Bertholdt echoes. He lies back and lets the moon shine down on his face. “Home at last.” 


	6. clear eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2017  
> unrequited reiner -> bert

“Where’d you get this?” Bertholdt had asked. He had held the steaming mug of coffee close to his face, letting the steam warm his nose. He had breathed it in, smiling slightly. He had looked lovely against the grey sunrise, a spot of color in the cloudy morn, and Reiner had wished that every day could be like this one: clear eyes and full hearts.

“No one will notice it’s gone,” Reiner had said, picking up his own hot mug.

Bertholdt had raised his eyebrows. “Reiner, did you steal this?”

“No one will know,” Reiner had said, smiling. He had sipped at his coffee: too hot and much too bitter, but a vibrant delicacy all the same. It had felt so good to feel alive again.

“Reiner!”

“They just keep it in big jugs in the officer commons! How was i supposed to resist?”

“What were you doing in the officer commons?”

Reiner had nudged him with his elbow. “Stealing coffee for you.”

Bertholdt had huffed, but he had sipped the coffee all the same. Then gone back for another sip, and then another. When he had finally set his mug down, he had glanced sideways at Reiner. “I didn’t ask you for this.”

Reiner had not met his gaze. “You know you don’t have to ask.” 


	7. sweetness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2017

The sunrise is sweet over the mountains. The sky fades from deep black to silky strokes of yellow and pink. The light casts golden rays over the land, and in the morning glow, Bertholdt’s eyes shine like dewdrops. 

“You know,” Reiner starts, but never finishes. The way Bertholdt looks at him, casually, quietly, without a care in the world as the soft breeze blows through his hair- it is too much, and Reiner trails off, suddenly content to remain in the silence. Bertholdt’s gaze lingers on him a moment too long, and Reiner turns his face down to his tin cup, sure that he is blushing.

“I know,” he hears Bertholdt says. When he looks up, Bertholdt is smiling at him, teasing him. He pours Reiner another cup of coffee and they watch the end of the sunrise, forgetting, for a moment, why they are here.


	8. pressure points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2017  
> post-ts, cw: panic attack

The first time it happens, Reiner wakes with blood in his mouth. He blinks in the lamplight, his eyes thick with the weight of deep sleep, and when he comes to, finally, he sees the ceiling of his bedroom spinning over his head. The floor moves beneath him. He does not remember how he got there.

The second time it happens, he has just bruised his knuckles on a punching bag in the gym when suddenly there are loud voices behind him, loud voices all around him, and then he cannot breathe and he is on his knees, shaking, clutching at his throat, and it’s then that it strikes him.

Later, Reiner wonders how to live alone. He tries to remember the things Bertholdt used to say to him, the pressure points Bertholdt used to squeeze. He tries these things, and the third time it happens, they do not help.

Reiner wonders if it was not the things Bertholdt said or did, so much as it was only Bertholdt himself. 


	9. variables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2017  
> reiner doesn't know that bertholdt died

“Given the circumstances,” Zeke says from across the desk, “it is imperative that our next steps are strategically planned.”

Reiner does not want to be here. There is a weight hanging on him, painting bruised circles beneath his eyes, pulling his shoulders down until he is hunched in his chair, staring at the edge of Zeke's desk. He does not want to be here. He does not need to be here. Where he needs to be, right now, is out there, looking-

“Did you hear me?” Zeke asks. A bottle clinks. “We need to be realistic about our resources.”

Reiner glances up. “What does that mean?” 

“It means,” Zeke says, pouring something deep and amber into two carved glasses, “that we must consider every scenario, including the worst possible outcomes. We must strategize with the resources that we have, not the ones we might have.”

He slides a glass across the desk to Reiner. “Do you understand what i’m saying?”

Reiner takes the glass with numb fingers. There is a difference between understanding, and wanting to understand. He takes a sip from the glass and winces. “Variables can change, can’t they?”

Zeke puts the bottle away. “Some things, we cannot change.” 


	10. experimenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> january 2018  
> teens talking about sex

“Up where?!” Bertholdt sputters.

“A lot of guys do it,” Reiner says without looking up. “It’s like, almost the same as with a girl, you know.”

Bertholdt is not going to admit that he doesn’t know entirely how that works either. He has spent the last three years in the constant company of half-naked girls, but just stomachs and shoulders. Whatever is going on down there is just, you know… whatever. The closest he has ever been to seeing a girl naked, like really, properly naked, was during water training this summer when Hannah made the brave choice to wear tiny, tiny underthings as her swimming gear. 

Like, tiny.

He saw something. An outline, or whatever. Not that he was looking. Everyone was looking though, to be honest, so maybe he was too, and maybe he spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell he was supposed to think about it. Maybe he doesn’t remember.

What he does remember are the stories Franz told that night in the barracks. She had only worn those little things, according to him, because she was hoping they’d be paired together for exercises and that one of his fingers might slip past the lining and up into-

“Reiner,” Bertholdt had asked in the dead of the night, whispering across the bunks. “What do girls’ parts look like?”

“Why the hell would you ask _me_?” Reiner had whispered back. 

That was a fair question. And it’s not like Bertholdt really wanted to see a girl naked (he was, at that point, pretty terrified of all the girls he had met, considering that two of them regularly tried to kill each other on the training grounds), but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Girls could be kind of nice sometimes. They smelled much better than boys, although not much better at the end of a long practice session. And not much better than Reiner either, who smelled like soap and home in a way that made Bertholdt want to steal his pillowcase. 

He supposes, now, that he hadn’t been curious about girls in particular. He had not yet breached the taboo of sex, so there was still something quite mysterious about all of that and everything down there. What was the fuss? 

Then he saw Reiner's freshly grown pubes in the shower (all blonde and curly), and when he creamed into his hand 30 seconds later, hunched over in the corner of the stalls, wishing he was dead but also wanting to fuck the first thing that he saw, he realized- Oh. That was the fuss. 

“But still,” Bertholdt exclaims.

He is standing half-naked in the barracks, watching Reiner change. Their free afternoon has fallen on the hottest day in autumn. Most of the cadets immediately changed and darted off to the lake, to cool off in the shade and water, but Reiner had cornered bertholdt in the bunks and sucked on his collarbones until everyone finally got sick of them and left, and then he palmed Bertholdt's dick until Bertholdt admitted, gasping, yes, this is much better than swimming. Definitely worth the fuss.

“I’ve never heard of that,” Bertholdt says. 

The way Reiner raises an eyebrow makes him squirm.

“You’ve never heard of anything,” Reiner says, slipping into his fresh shirt. He sits up and reaches across to grab the gear straps that Bertholdt hasn’t bothered to take off yet. “Remember when I sucked you off for the first time? That was-”

“That was different,” Bertholdt says as he is reeled towards Reiner, hips first. “At least I’d heard of that, I’d just never, you know-”

Where does Reiner hear of these things anyways? 

The boys talk about all sorts of things in the barracks. Bertholdt would never have thought to fathom the unmentionable acts that have been brought up. But he can tell he’s not the only one who’s new to this. Connie’s fake knowledge can only go so far, especially when he has such a terrible poker face. And Eren usually spends those nights lingering in the shadows of his bunk, his face fiery red as his eyes dart back and forth across the room like a wild animal. Few of the boys have walked the walk. It was Armin, actually, who surprised them all. Not with his knowledge, but his pervasive curiosity. The amount of detail that goes into his questions is both startling and inspiring. He’s gained quite a brave reputation in the barracks.

Still, no one, not even the brave, has ever mentioned-… this.

“I don’t know,” Bertholdt says. He towers over Reiner, who sits and plucks at his gear straps. “That sounds, um, painful.”

“It doesn’t hurt if you know what you’re doing,” Reiner says.

Bertholdt stares at him. “You know what you’re doing?”

It takes a second- a long, dumbfounded second- but then Reiner's cheeks flush bright pink, the pinkest Bertholdt has ever seen, pinker than the time he cracked a towel across Jean’s ass in the shower, except it wasn’t actually Jean, it was one of the older cadets, and soon Reiner was on the floor yelling _uncle_ with a bar of soap in his mouth until Shadis barged in and, quite literally, kicked everyone’s asses. 

“I mean,” Reiner says, pulling back. He turns and shrugs. “I’ve, like, you know.”

“No,” Bertholdt exclaims. “What?”

“Just, like, you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Like, experimented. A little.”

Bertholdt does not know what the hell that means.

“With who?” he exclaims. Partially because if anyone is going to own the supple curve of Reiner’s toned ass, it’s going to be him, damn it. And partially because he cannot imagine a single person on this god-given earth who would be powerful enough to have Reiner Fucking Braun, of all people, hands-down, ass-up, ready to take it right there.

This is excepting the fantasy version of himself that he has just created in his head, the one that definitely owns Reiner’s ass, the one that can last more than a minute before creaming into Reiner’s hand with a whimper like a dying animal.

(That was how Connie described it from across the room, which resulted in a resounding spurt of laughter from the boys and Bertholdt’s endless, red-faced humiliation every time Sasha talked about hunting at dinner. Reiner thought it was funny too, until he was on the receiving end of Bertholdt’s cold shoulder, and then suddenly it was “Guys, stop, come on.” Horny jackass.)

“No one!” Reiner exclaims. “I meant, like, with other things.”

Other things, Bertholdt thinks. 

How many things can one person possibly be willing to shove up their ass?

They are breaking the golden rule of barrack #3: everyone masturbates and no one talks about it. They have all heard each other jerking it in the middle of the night, and there has been a constant, silent agreement to never speak about what happens under the covers. Bertholdt’s not going to pretend that he hasn’t done it, or that he hasn’t heard Reiner doing it. among other things, apparently.

And, maybe, it happens, sometimes, that Reiner is doing it with Bertholdt pressed up against his back, their hips moving in motion, or sometimes the other way around, and maybe a few hands get mixed up in there, and maybe they both finish, Reiner into Bertholdt’s fingers and Bertholdt into the stained lining of his shorts, and maybe that actually happens all the time in the barracks, not just between them, and maybe he has heard Jean and Marco get a little too lusty just before reveille, and maybe he couldn’t keep himself from laughing when he realized that the mousy squeaking he was hearing at midnight was actually Eren, not Armin, and maybe, now that he thinks about it, maybe the way they all gyrate hips against ass is naturally indicative of what Reiner is talking about and-

“Shit,” Bertholdt says.

Reiner stands up. “Think about it?”

Bertholdt blinks. “Sure.”

He doesn’t need to think about it. He wants to fuck Reiner Braun in the ass.


	11. in pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> september 2018

Reiner will remember this night in pieces. 

Flashes of starlight memories will rouse him from sleep in the years to come, sending his heart to spurs, and his hands will shake when he wipes the sweat of dreams from his brow. He will remember the strokes of the sunset, how deeply, wonderfully, endlessly the horizon stretched across the sky, until silence drew over the world.

Then there was just nighttime: Bertholdt’s lips were on his, sweet, like wine, until Reiner tasted the bitter whiskey clinging to his tongue.

They fucked in the twilight, and Bertholdt will tell Reiner not to be so crass, and Reiner will remember that Bertholdt is not really here, not anymore. He will wonder why he remembers it that way, fingernails digging tattoos into his skin, the scorching shade of the night burning bruises across his body. He will remember Bertholdt beside him, with him, of him, and he will wonder why they did not call it love. 

Everything else will be lost in his mind. After that, he will only remember the dawn: the purple hours before sunrise, when Bertholdt kissed him with attention and heralded his gaze to the horizon. _W_ _e will be home soon_ , Bertholdt said, and when Reiner remembers these words, he will not be able to sleep again.


	12. sober

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2018  
> cw: alcohol use, emetophobia

“You’re so different,” Bertholdt says. His eyes are full of light, and when he reaches out for Reiner, he misses. “Oh, wait, there you are.”

Reiner sends the dusty bottle sprawling out of his hand. It’s empty anyways, but he can smell it on Bertholdt’s breath and it sends him reeling, waking. What are they doing here, with these people, these children?

“We’re leaving,” Reiner says.

“Lighten up, Braun,” someone laughs. “It’s a party.”

“We’re going home,” Bertholdt exclaims. 

When he stands, his feet stumble on the floorboards. Reiner drags him outside, his grip iron on Bertholdt’s wrist. 

Bertholdt’s eyes are wide like the moon. “Reiner, we’re going home?”

“We’re not going home,” Reiner snaps.

He is sorry, instantly, because of the way Bertholdt’s face falls, the way he deflates, dropping his shoulders and sighing. In the next moment, he is sober, more than he has been in a long time, and he does not meet Reiner’s eyes.

“Oh,” he says.

It is all he says for the rest of the night, and when Reiner is wiping Bertholdt’s mouth as he vomits behind the barracks in the dark hours of the morning, Reiner feels something familiar twisting inside of him, something that he has seen on Bertholdt’s face so many times before. this is what it’s like. 


	13. kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> august 2019

Bertholdt will never know what he likes most about kissing Reiner. 

It may be the escape. The excuse to get away from their training, their mission, even if it’s just for an hour after dinner. Falling into a hay bale and fitting into each other’s arms. He can forget for a few minutes, and he can’t seem to let himself feel guilty about it, not when Reiner’s lips feel so good on his.

Maybe it’s the intimacy of it all. It feels special when it’s just the two of them, no secrets between them, and it’s even better when no talking is required. He doesn’t have this kind of connection with anyone else. There’s something about Reiner that makes him feel calm when they’re together. And then nervous again, when Reiner’s hand settles on his thigh. But a good nervous.

It’s all good, every part of it. The chance to be lazy teenagers for once. The way Reiner mumbles against his lips and whispers that he likes when Bertholdt uses tongue. Testing how far he can press his knee between Reiner's legs before they have to run for cold showers. The actual kissing. The warmth between their lips and Reiner's hands in his hair. 

When Reiner breaks off and presses kisses on Bertholdt’s jaw. How he settles halfway on top of Bertholdt, one leg hooked over his thighs, and how he smirks when he arranges Bertholdt’s hand on his hip. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, a finger brushing over Bertholdt’s ear.

Bertholdt blushes. “You.”

“Funny,” Reiner murmurs, leaning down. “I was thinking about you too.”


	14. shoulder blades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> august 2019

It’s nothing more than a touch. 

Bertholdt’s fingers, fanned out and brushed down the curve of Reiner’s shoulder blade as he passes. It’s hardly anything, given the raucous roughhousing that dominates the small room, towels slapped and scalps bruised as the cadets come in from the showers, waving steam from their eyes. 

But it’s the whisper of something more. A tingle down Reiner’s back that murmurs _I_ _saw you_ and leaves the space between them choking. It’s far too much distance, the moment Bertholdt pulls his hand away. The way he shivers when he feels Reiner’s gaze linger on him. The way his body suddenly feels self-conscious and he dresses in silence, wondering if anyone saw, wondering if anyone would say something. Wondering if Reiner will speak up.

The bath house empties out, the steam disappearing into the air, and then it’s Reiner’s hand on the back of his neck, knuckles brushing over his skin. It’s Bertholdt’s lips hanging open, Reiner’s hand trailing down his back. The walls of the room getting smaller and smaller. 

It’s a kiss on his nape, and then a moment of silence. A promise.


	15. tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> october 2019

“Heartbreaker,” Bertholdt mumbles, smiling when Reiner touches the corner of his lips. His kiss lingers there, Reiner’s fingers trailing down his neck and away, a flight that sends a shiver through his chest. 

Reiner smirks. “Tease,” he says. He hooks one finger into the towel around Bertholdt’s waist and pulls on it. Bertholdt’s tightly wound fists keep it from coming loose, but his blushing protests are half-hearted. Not really protests at all. Reiner presses a warm thumb against his hip bone. 

“Tease,” Bertholdt breathes, and Reiner grins. “Scoundrel.” 

“Report me,” Reiner dares, asks, taunts. 

He hums— thrilled, heart leaping— when Bertholdt pushes back, presses him against the wet shower wall and holds their lips together, their bodies an inch apart. Mouth warm against his. Beads of water dripping from Bertholdt’s freshly washed hair. He hums, and Bertholdt pulls upright, hand touching the gentle spot on his lips where they kissed.

He still blushes, but he mutters, "Consider yourself warned.” 


	16. pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019

He feels Bertholdt roll over in the middle of the night. Not asleep— his head still on the pillow. Quiet eyes watching Reiner in the dark. He can barely feel Bertholdt is there, except for his gaze. Their mats are inches apart. Privacy. Personal space. He remembers slinging in a hammock together, holding back their sick as the ship rocked beneath them. Campfires together. Alleyways and canvas tents. 

A sudden pressure on his wrist, and Reiner glances sideways in the dark, head shifting against his pillow. Bertholdt is watching him. His hand laid over Reiner’s heartbeat. His hand may still be there in the morning, and Reiner will wonder if he slept at all in the night. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. Louder than he means. Someone across the cabin shifts in their sleep. Someone’s dribbling snore sinks into silence.

Bertholdt’s hair scratches against the pillow as he shakes his head. Squeezes Reiner’s hand around his and closes his eyes. Pretends he’ll sleep tonight.


	17. summer heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019

Chapped lips, even in the wet summer heat. Still soft, still gentle. Cicadas hum in the trees, and Bertholdt does too, leaning into him. Reiner can taste the beer foam on his lips and the sweetness of his smile. He can feel the air buzzing between them and the world going quiet around them. The edges blurring.

A corner of sunlight sits on Bertholdt’s cheek. Reiner touches it. Warm. 

Bertholdt pulls back with a soft noise, two fingers rising to touch his lips. He squints a bit when Reiner touches him again, thumb brushing across his cheek, and his face softens as Reiner kisses the corner of his mouth, head dipping to catch a ray of golden sunlight across his crown. Bertholdt giggles, hiccups. 

“Mm,” he says instantly, his eyes going wide. “Sorry.”

“Gross,” Reiner laughs, cupping Bertholdt’s face in his hands. “You’re cute when you burp.”

“It was a hiccup,” Bertholdt mutters, and does it again. He clasps a hand to his mouth. “Stop laughing!” 

“If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working.” Reiner kisses his protests away. Bertholdt’s quiet smile is tender under his lips, and he lets Reiner push him back against the steps, back arching as he reaches up to grip a hand on Reiner’s shoulders. 

Making out on the barrack steps is a sure citation. Groping Bertholdt through his uniform is even worse, but Reiner does it anyways.

Bertholdt pushes him back by the shoulders. “Reiner!”

“Sorry. You wanna go skinny dipping?” He grins at Bertholdt’s pout as he smooths back his hair where Reiner mussed it. Tugs on his belt discreetly before he gives up and sticks a hand down his pants to adjust himself. 

“Stop laughing. You’re the one feeling me up in broad daylight—”

"You’re too cute. You know I love your bodily functions. Sometimes you fart in your sleep. Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

Bertholdt shoves him. A threat. Not a real one, just a warning that he’s about to get his ass kicked. Friendly fire, of course. Reiner grins and shoves him back. Just three fingers on Bertholdt’s shoulder, a little nudge. That’s all it takes for him to purse his lips. Narrow his eyes at Reiner and push a hand against his chest. He moves the beer bottles out of the way first. Stacks them on the top step so they won’t break. Before he slams Reiner with the palm of his hand and bowls him over. 

“That was hot,” Reiner says, splayed across the steps. Sun in his eyes. A little drunker than he realized. Sweaty with a semi in the middle of the compound on their afternoon off. “We should fight more often.”

“You provoked me,” Bertholdt says without looking at him. He grabs Reiner’s beer bottle from the top step and finishes it off. There’s nothing in there, but it’s the thought that counts. Victory. 

He wipes his lips. “Let’s go skinny dipping.” 


	18. shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019  
> things you said that i wasn't meant to hear

“Oh,” Reiner says. He blinks. “Well, I didn’t mean—”

“Is that what you think of me?” Bertholdt asks. He stammers, but his fists are curled into balls, and Reiner has never seen him like this, never pink and stuttering and so angry over words Reiner doesn’t even remember saying. “That I’m just your shadow or something?”

He shrinks back down as he soon as he says it, his eyes getting wider. He swallows and stares at Reiner. But he doesn’t unclench his fists, just sinks into his shoulders and tucks his hands into the sleeves of his uniform jacket. Reiner’s first instinct is to tease him, give him a little shove, and get themselves written up for brawling on the steps of the canteen. The sunlight moves, high noon arriving with the lazy call of a hawk overhead, and Reiner wonders, with a pang of guilt, if those are tears in Bertholdt’s eyes.

“Never mind,” Bertholdt mutters. He swallows again and looks away. “I don’t care if you said it or not. You’d say anything they wanted you to.”

“I’m just being friendly,” Reiner says.

“You’re being stupid,” Bertholdt exclaims. He glares. The sun shines in his eyes. “You’re going to get us killed.”

Reiner blinks. “Is that what you think of me?”


	19. on top of the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019  
> things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

After a while, sleep begins to slip from Reiner’s grasp. It often does. Dreams still find him somehow; some days, they are the moments in between everything else, the times when the world is too bright and he can’t see beyond the horizon. Nightmares find him too, and sometimes shadows. Sometimes just words, spoken in darkness. Echoes of something within.

He wakes in the cold, and he reaches for warmth before he’s opened his eyes. His hands fall to find nothing there. He blinks awake, head raised slightly from the stone. Wind rushes over his face. A stiffening breeze shudders over him and sends shivers through him, bringing him thoroughly into the waking world again. Overhead, the sky is darker than when he fell asleep. Bertholdt sits apart. He is curled up, knees drawn to his chin, sweater pulled over his hands. Beyond him, Ymir lies still on her back, exposed to the cold wind. Asleep, maybe, or maybe not. But she’s quiet. 

“Are you cold?” Reiner asks when he sits down beside Bertholdt. The wilderness is still beneath the wall. There are old houses past the forest, or the trees themselves, that could have been covered shelter for the night, but Reiner doesn’t think that Bertholdt is shivering. He is shaking. It’s the ground that’s unsafe, not the air. 

“Fine,” is all Bertholdt says. He stares ahead. 

Reiner tries to read his profile. “You always feel warm to me.”

The stars wheel overhead on a midnight sky. Something calls in the distance; the howl echoes over the wall, singing in the air around them, and Bertholdt turns his gaze. He looks beyond the wall, the final line, and into the darkness. Past that, even. Reiner glances away from him and watches his feet, hanging over the edge of the world. Their knees touch.

“We could’ve moved tonight,” Reiner says. “Zeke is probably waiting for us at the meeting point. If protocol still stands. I don’t think we could’ve gotten back to the port. But we could go now, if you want. Anytime.” 

“You needed to rest,” Bertholdt whispers.

“Yeah,” Reiner sighs. He knocks the heel of his boot against the wall with a thud. “We all did.”

In the silence that follows, they listen to Ymir breathing. Her chest rises and falls in steady time as she lies, content on the cold tone. Her face is turned towards the sky. Reiner’s gaze slides out of focus, and he glances back to Bertholdt, who sits listless, arms wrapped around his legs. He lets the wind rattle over him, threatening to blow him over the edge of the wall.

He speaks softly. “It wasn’t all a lie.” 

Reiner watches an owl break free from the forest. It soars against the black sky, a silent figure, and disappears. 

“No,” he whispers. Bertholdt drops his head onto his knees. “It wasn’t.”


	20. crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019  
> things you said when you were crying

The cabin door creaks. The night isn’t silent; waves splash against metal, steel clunks under sailors’ footsteps, and faint shouts come in intervals, the crew guiding their cargo onward. One small whisper won’t wake the world, but Reiner freezes in the doorway. His hands are pressed against the cold metal of the door, and he peers down the dark deck passage. The soldiers’ quarters are quiet, and after another moment of precaution, he steps over the ledge of the hatch and out into the hall.

His teeth chatter when he steps onto the top deck, the open wind rushing over his face in stiff strokes. He hugs his jacket closer and stumbles onto the deck. Beneath his feet, the ship lulls and bows; the waves are hard in the night, sending his boots skidding back and forth across the deck before he gets a grip for balance. He feels sick beneath the stars as he clambers along the side of the ship, his grip hugging the rail.

He finds what he is looking for at the stern. Bertholdt, leaning over the side, his dark hair tousled. His eyes red.

“Don’t look at me,” he gasps when he sees Reiner. He straightens up and wipes his eyes, sniffling. The ship heaves, and he clings to the railing. Reiner’s boots skid out from underneath him and he stumbles forward, flung against the rail.

“Don’t say anything,” Bertholdt hiccups. "Don't tell them I was crying."

“I won’t tell anyone,” Reiner promises.

Bertholdt doesn’t look at him. He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his jacket and glances over the side of the ship. The sea trailing behind them. Somewhere in the distance, their home. The sky overhead is pitch black. Darker than Reiner has ever seen it before, and so many stars. He watches for a moment as they shine, and when he glances down again, Bertholdt is staring at him. He sniffles again, one hand on the railing, the other wiping his eyes.

“I’m not scared,” he says. “It’s… I’m worried about my dad.”

The boat rocks under Reiner. “Oh.”

“He’s sick,” Bertholdt says. “They said he’d get better when I became a warrior. Because Marley has medicine for it. Stuff that normal people can’t get.”

Just as he’s finished drying his eyes, the tears spill over again. “But he’s dying anyways. He won’t be there when I get back.”

“He’ll be there,” Reiner exclaims, his boots shuffling on the deck floor. “We’re going to save everyone, remember? And your dad wouldn’t want to worry when you’ve got the mission to focus on, would he?”

Bertholdt glares at him, eyes bloodshot, and Reiner’s mouth goes dry.

“You don’t know that,” Bertholdt says, tears running down his cheeks. His brow furrows. “You don’t know anything.”

“I just mean—”

“You don’t even have a dad,” Bertholdt shouts. “How can you say anything when your dad didn’t even want you?”

A sudden creak. They whip around, catching onto the railing as the ship rocks on the waves. A door is open on the top deck, the lantern light flooding down the ladder towards them. A sailors’ boots strike the top step, and the boys turn and dart back into the corridor, scurrying to their assigned bunks.


	21. crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2019  
> things you said when we were on top of the world

He finds Bertholdt there, secreted away on the cliff ledge. It hangs over the furthest reaches of the training grounds, of the forests where the trees are splintered with holes from 3DMG, where the classes rotate in sections so the leaves can grow back, so first years can know what it’s like to be whipped in the face by pine needles at top speed. That’s where he finds Bertholdt. Perched on the ledge, arms wrapped around his knees, grinning as he watches the cadets zoom through the forest below.

Reiner bounds up to him— an anchor at the top of the cliff, another on the cliffside— and swings himself onto the ledge, landing on the grass beside him.

“Having fun?” he asks.

Bertholdt hardly glances at him (he knows who it is, of course, he knows), but the tips of his ears turn pink, and he curls up tighter, resting his chin on his knees. “Shut up. It’s funny.”

Reiner grins. “You should’ve been on the ground ten minutes ago. Daniel landed in a birds’ nest and got pecked half to death.”

“Who?”

“First year.” Reiner plops down beside him and lets his legs dangle over the edge. “Redhead kid. Delta squad.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bertholdt muses. Ge lifts his head up and watches for a moment as the treetops rustle with trainees zipping beneath them. “Well, he deserved it for landing in a birds’ nest.”

“It was his first try! He’ll get better.”

Bertholdt snorts. “Maybe.”

Reiner nudges him with his elbow. “You’re one to talk. You almost didn’t make it through the first day of gear training.”

“I was an exception,” Bertholdt exclaims, glancing sideways at him. “I was just—”

“Too tall?”

“Too tall for that stupid course they set up,” he huffs. “I passed, technically. Shadis said so himself.”

“Shadis only said that so he wouldn’t have to watch you decapitate yourself on a low-hanging branch.”

Bertholdt reaches around and smacks Reiner on the shoulder. “They were too low! How was anyone expected to maneuver through those?

“Only for a freak like you, maybe,” Reiner laughs. He leans away. “Why are you hitting me? That doesn’t even hurt.”

“You want it to hurt?” Bertholdt exclaims. “Fine, I’ll show you!”

“Oh, I’m scared now—”

If he thinks Reiner is going down easy, he’s got to be joking. Bertholdt wrestles him down into the grass of the cliff ledge and pins him, his face pushed into the dirt. They’ll be filthy later. They’ll be filthy and late to the session wrap-up, but there’s not much he can do about that until he shows Bertholdt his place. He struggles for a minute, grinning as Bertholdt continues to whack him on the shoulder— pathetic. Reiner knows he can do better than that.— and then he whips upright, landing his elbow in the middle of Bertholdt’s chest and sending him sprawling backwards on the ledge, flat in the dirt.

On his back, Bertholdt glowers. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding—”

Reiner drops into his lap, and Bertholdt goes pink. Silent. Dumbfounded. Their gear boxes clunk together awkwardly, metal scraping together.

“You’re unbelievable,” Bertholdt mutters. “Someone’s going to see us.”

“We’re on a cliffside, Bert.” Reiner sets his hands on Bertholdt’s shoulders and pushes him onto the ground. Grabs a handful of dirt and rubs it into his hair for good measure. “Come on, kiss me.”

“You’re crushing me,” Bertholdt whines.

“If you think you can get away with calling me fat—”

“You made fun of me for being tall.”

“You are,” Reiner says. He leans down. “String bean.”

Bertholdt glares up at him. He might be trying to pout, but it’s not working, and it just makes Reiner grin harder.

“I’ll show you,” Bertholdt mutters, pushing upright against Reiner’s hands. He lurches himself up, Reiner falling out of his lap, between his legs, and just as Reiner feels the open air behind his back, one of Bertholdt’s arms is there, catching him around his waist before he falls over the edge of the cliff. The wind brushes through their hair, and Reiner grins at him.

“Show me what?” he whispers, their faces closer now. Bertholdt shifting to hold him, tight. “Wait, oh my god. Do you have a crush on me?”

Bertholdt cracks, his glare falling away into a smile. “You got me,” he murmurs, laughing, and he leans forward, pushing their lips together.


End file.
